


Fire

by mjs0515



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Abuse of italics, M/M, abuse of some words too because I don't want to think anymore and this is already long overdue, special appearance by Jang Wooyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjs0515/pseuds/mjs0515
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And you—what did you think of it?” Junho licks his lips and waits for Chansung’s response with bated breath because to him, that’s the one opinion that matters the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Umm…hi? xD
> 
> For Hana, Nana, Amy, Jati and Bella (and all the CNN shippers out there LMAO) because I was spazzing with them when Junho’s “Fire” performance—the inspiration for this fic—was broadcasted ♥ and thanks to Gabs, too, for getting me addicted to SoMo (which was on repeat while I was writing pretty much this whole thing)!
> 
>  
> 
> *Rated R-18 for sex and language

 

“Well, well. Look who has finally made an appearance!” Junho exclaims, his eyes turning into crescent moons as he sees his bandmate and brother waiting for him in the dressing room.

Wooyoung laughs, and they exchange special handshakes and manly hugs and whispers of _I missed you man_. “Yo, I may be hiding lately but I sure as hell won’t miss this. Congrats man, you did a great fuckin’ job!” Wooyoung says, making quotation marks in the air at the word hiding. “Don’t tell anybody, but I was one of those fans screaming during your performance. I’m so proud of you, son.” He wraps one of his arms around Junho’s shoulders as the last lines were delivered in a high-pitched voice, and even wipes fake tears, bats his eyelashes, and soundly kisses Junho’s cheek for good measure.

Junho could only chuckle at Wooyoung’s antics because seriously, how do you respond to a man who seems to be on crack all the time? Besides, he doesn’t have time to think of a response anymore as Wooyoung suddenly grabs his shoulders and softly says, “Seriously though, Nuneo, I _am_ proud of you,” before hugging him tightly. Because as much as Wooyoung loves to tease the younger man, he truly is happy that Junho's finally shining in the spotlight like he has always deserved.

He hates being weepy and sentimental, though, so he chooses to make fun of Junho’s outfit next. “But what happened to your clothes? You know, that’s something my grandmother would wear. Mmm. Definitely.”

“Ohoho, _excuse me_ but that’s rich coming from a man wearing a bucket hat and a ridiculously loud jacket,” is Junho’s cheeky comeback as he slaps his supposed-to-be-hyung's arm. And Wooyoung wants to defend himself but just shuts up since he knows no one really gets his style lately except for Minjun. “Eh," he shrugs as if to say there's nothing else anyone can do about it. "So. Clubbing tonight? Text Chansung. Drinks are on me, man.”

“Can’t today. Have to rush home. How about we all go out tomorrow instead?”

Wooyoung, who’s actually already aware of Junho’s plans for the night but just can’t help himself from yanking on the younger man’s chains, smirks and taunts him with a “Hubby’s waiting for you at home, eh? Perhaps naked?” which earns him a smack to the gut.

As bitchy as Junho’s words in response may be (“Fuck you, go wank with Khun or something”), his ears noticeably turn red like he always does when embarrassed, making Wooyoung cackle like a crazy hyena.

“Thanks for the suggestion!” The older man shouts after Junho as he stomps out of the room, and Wooyoung laughs even more.

 

xxx 

 

Junho later walks to his car after more pleasantries (in his opinion it actually feels like years of nonsense chatter, but then he’s just being dramatic), opens his Twitter, and sniggers when he sees how their fans kept on saying “Finally!” to Chansung when he tweeted about Junho’s performance. “Thank you, Chansung. Wait for me,” he tweets back—and makes the fans scream and speculate and talk about it for hours—before rushing home.

 

To nobody’s surprise, Chansung’s lying on the living room floor watching movies by the time Junho gets home. The sight of Chansung cuddling with Johnny and Wollie amidst the blankets sends a warm feeling to his belly, makes his heart skip a little, and a wide grin finally appears on his face after a long, tiring day of practicing and recording and socializing with people when he’d rather just stay home.

“Look, Daddy’s finally back!” Chansung coos to Johnny, who looks up from his perch on Daddy #2’s chest before sashaying his way to his owner. Junho picks him up and the first thing he asks Chansung is if he has eaten yet because the house smells like food—is that _ramyeon_?—and it makes his stomach rumble, reminding him that he hasn’t really consumed anything except for bland crackers.

“I cooked us dinner…you know, to celebrate your first special solo stage or whatever you call it,” was Chansung’s answer as he gets up from the floor. He gives the smaller man a congratulations-and-welcome-home peck on the lips before leading him to the dining area, where Junho is surprised to see the table set nicely, complete with candles and everything. He almost cries because while his boyfriend has always been a sweet person, he’s not really into the romantic stuff other couples are—which is totally okay with Junho, by the way, because they’ve been best friends since forever and there really is no more need for romancing. But then Chansung suddenly gets shy and starts to stutter, “I’m sorry I’m not a great cook and this is all I could do without fucking something up. We can order take out instead if you want, maybe some—“ so Junho cuts him off with a squeeze of his hand. “Oh shush. It’s okay. I’ve always eaten whatever you cook for me, haven’t I?” He lifts the lid and damn he’s right—it’s _ramyeon_ and it’s perfect because it’s just so… _them_. (He also hates how his eyes start to water even more, and tries to convince himself that it’s the steam from the noodles doing that and not his overflowing emotions ‘cause _who the fuck cries over instant noodles_?)

They both sit down and scarf up their food in silence, Junho’s hand absentmindedly caressing Chansung’s thigh (a habit he can’t keep himself from doing despite being caught one too many times on camera). Junho does the dishes when they finish after three bowls each—that’s their rule; the person who does the cooking is exempted from washing the dishes—while Chansung…well Chansung stands behind Junho and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, his chin resting on the other’s shoulder.

Chansung takes notice of Junho biting that lower lip of his like he always does when in deep thought. “You’re attacking your lip again. Care to share what’s worrying you?”

Junho’s not surprised he asked, as Chansung had always been sensitive to the atmosphere around him. He won’t stop bugging him until he gets answers so Junho timidly asks, “Do you think the fans liked Fire? Was it…did I do enough?”

Chansung scoffs and pokes one of Junho’s ribs—it’s so like him to doubt himself even after seven years. “ _Liked_ it? I’m pretty sure the crowd loved you, babe. If the loud fanchants and trending in search portals aren’t proof enough of that, I don’t know what is. Seriously, stop doubting yourself,” he tsks then kisses Junho’s temple and the action comforts and reassures the smaller man in more ways than anyone and anything ever could. “You’re great. Always have been.”

“And you—what did _you_ think of it?” Junho licks his lips and waits for Chansung’s response with bated breath; to him, that’s the one opinion that matters the most.

Chansung chuckles lowly. “Well, I think you looked hot on stage earlier…” he says in that same low voice, one of his hands slipping underneath Junho’s shirt to stroke the sliver of skin just below his belly button. And Junho shivers because _god_ that voice, those magic hands, _that motherfucking chuckle_.

He decides to shed his sheepishness and grows bold—just a little bit bold enough to turn his voice deeper and huskier than normal. “Did I now?” he smirks cockily and leans back against the tall male’s chest. Chansung hums in affirmation, his lips brushing against the side of Junho’s neck, and the vibrations sends shivers yet again down the latter’s spine.

“Made me damn hard,” Chansung hotly whispers. His hands continue making their way across Junho’s chest, taking all the time in the world in exploring every crease in Junho's torso while grinding his hips against the smaller man’s ass to make him feel just how much he affects him. “The way you were caressing that fucking mic babe, it was as if you were making love to it.”

And the memory of Junho practically molesting the mic stand and eye-fucking the camera makes Chansung snap. He grabs Junho by the hips to turn him around and devour his lips. Junho gasps from the sudden movement and Chansung takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the other’s mouth, but the older kisses back just as forcibly and just as hungrily.

“Are you jealous of the mic?” Junho laughs a little breathlessly. “Don’t worry baby, I was actually thinking of you while performing…imagining it was your cock in my hands instead of that mic stand…” He shamelessly palms Chansung’s growing bulge for emphasis, and Chansung whimpers in need, his hips grinding against Junho’s hand. “ _Junho_ …”

“What do you want me to do, Chansung?” Junho purrs, his tongue brushing against the shell of Chansung’s ear, making the maknae.

“T-touch me…”

Junho squeezes Chansung’s length, pumping the latter’s still-clothed hard-on. “Like this?”

“N-no, under the pants…I want to feel your skin…” is the stuttered reply.

Junho gets down on his knees and looks up at Chansung with hooded eyes as he tugs on the younger male’s track pants, letting it pool at his ankles. “Naughty boy,” he smirks, making Chansung blush.

Discovering his boyfriend was apparently on commando through their whole dinner makes Junho’s mouth water, but he wants to play some more so he just kneels there face-to-dick with Chansung. “So big,” he comments, his hand hovering over the cock standing proudly in front of him, but not quite touching it.

“Come _on_ , babe,” Chansung whines.

Junho licks a stripe on his palm and then—then he strokes Chansung, his fingers gripping Chansung’s cock tightly. Chansung throws his head back from the pleasure, chanting _fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck_ until Junho's lips start tracing the side of his length and his breath hitches in anticipation.

“More, Junho…” he pleads, and Junho complies by licking him up like a lollipop. But then it frustrates the maknae to no end when Junho starts to suck his dick but only the tip and nothing more. “Babe I swear if you don’t stop teasing me like that I’ll fucking—”

He stops speaking and starts moaning instead when Junho’s hot, wet mouth engulfs his cock, his hand continuing to pump what his mouth cannot cover. Chansung grips the kitchen counter tightly, knuckles turning white, and it’s the only thing that (barely) stops him from thrusting his hips into Junho’s mouth.

Junho bobs his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks and adding more tongue with each pass. He licks the slit at the tip of Chansung’s dick, laps at the pre-cum that has gathered there, all the while maintaining eye contact, and that’s when Chansung’s hands make their way to his hair to stop him despite wanting more because it feels so good—too good—and Chansung’s almost there and _shit_ if Junho keeps up with this he’ll finish first and he doesn’t want that.

“Bedroom,” he whispers against Junho’s lips. Junho wraps his legs tightly around Chansung’s waist as Chansung walks them both to the bedroom, his hands kneading Junho’s ass, their lips never separating from each other’s.

Junho gets gently thrown on the bed, and he leans up on his elbows to watch Chansung take his time in taking his shirt off. The beastly male ogles Junho, who stares back with that same intense look and a lopsided smirk in place, urging Chansung to go on and strip for him, and the tension in the air feels thicker and more electric if that’s even possible.

Chansung slowly crawls between his lover’s legs and then everything suddenly seems to move faster as they meet halfway in a fierce kiss—lips and teeth and tongue and all. It makes them heady and dizzy and Junho has to grip the sheets beneath him for some grounding because he feels like he’s spiraling down and falling (even though he’s already fallen a long time ago).

“Chansung…please…” he whispers.

Chansung _understands_ and kisses his way down Junho’s chest, his lips eliciting goosebumps on Junho’s skin; he feels Junho’s muscles tense with each pass of his tongue, Junho tasting like cookies and sunshine and home like he always does.

“What do you want me to do, Junho?” he asks, using Junho’s own words from earlier, before going back up to nip at the skin on Junho’s jaw and throat, creating bruises and love marks they sometimes wish people could see so that everyone would know that Junho belongs only to Chansung and Chansung is only Junho’s.

And Junho—he doesn’t know what it is, just that he wants, needs, _craves_ , so he groans and practically begs, “I…I need—damn it Chansung; fuck me, make love to me, anything! Please, I just need you in me…”

The yearning in his voice makes Chansung harder and he again kisses his way down Junho’s masterpiece of a body, circling Junho’s nipples with the tip of his tongue and nibbling on them, before blowing cold air on the hardening peaks. He dips into Junho’s navel before travelling further down until he’s facing the smaller male’s not-so-small member. He licks the underside of Junho’s dick, tracing the vein there, before taking the hot and heavy length into his mouth.

Chansung doesn’t linger there, though—he almost instantly releases Junho’s cock with a pop and continues going lower. He leans back a bit first, though, to admire the puckering pink hole before him, and THEN he dives for it. His hands fondle Junho’s thighs, sliding up to his leaking cock where he wraps his fingers around, squeezing. He licks and licks and licks (and he does this not just out of obligation to prepare Junho but because it actually turns him on so much seeing Junho tremble with pleasure from the double stimulation), and Junho can only grab onto the headboard and thrash under him, unable to do anything more.

“Hwang Chansung!” Junho finally manages to half-yell half-sob. He grabs Chansung by the hair and devours his lips, hands gripping and nails scratching everywhere. He grows impatient and demanding and decides he’s had enough of Chansung’s teasing and takes matters into his hands quite literally by gripping Chansung’s dick and placing it against his hole. He wraps his legs around the younger’s waist and digs his heels onto Chansung’s ass, urging him forward and inside.

Junho gasps as Chansung enters him completely in one swift motion; even after all these years, he could never get used to the feeling. It’s never painful anymore, not even uncomfortable—just full and tight and so, so good.

Chansung pulls back oh so slowly, only the tip of his cock remaining inside. Junho’s about to complain, but then the taller male grabs his ankles and places them on his shoulder before pushing in again with as much force as he can that it almost hurts, hitting that sweet spot that makes his lover’s world quake. Chansung repeats the action, still pulling out slowly and pushing in forcefully, wanting to drag it out for as long as they can and heighten the sensation.

Junho closes his eyes tight from the pleasure, arches his back and rocks his hips up to get more, more, more because he’s greedy and it feels like it’s never deep enough, never close enough. Their sighs and groans and moans of _more, harder, faster_ echo loud in the room as Chansung continues to pound into him at an angle that drives him crazy and causes him to dig his fingers harder into Chansung’s shoulders.

They go faster and then they go slower, a push and pull of lust and love, and they’re sure that they’ll both have bruises come morning but they don’t care, not at all, because this is nice—it feels nice to let go and not worry about anything.

“Are you close?” Chansung pants against Junho’s lips. Junho, unable to find his voice, only nods in response.

“Come with me, babe,” Chansung demands, his hips rocking erratically, almost drilling Junho to the bed. He pumps Junho’s dick once, twice, thrice in time with his thrusts until thick ribbons of cum spurt from it, drawing Chansung’s own orgasm out of him. He could feel Junho’s walls clenching on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth, and his heart swells at the sight of Junho looking so damn beautiful like this with his head thrown back, mouth agape and lips swollen, face twisted in passion and ecstasy yet full of contentment and serenity.

 

They catch their breath for a while before Chansung gets up to clean them up both, treating Junho with extra care. He then climbs under the covers with Junho, both of them still naked and sweaty and smelling of sex.

“You know I love you, right?” Chansung mumbles sleepily against the top of Junho’s head.

Junho wraps his arm across Chansung’s torso and kisses his chest tenderly before looking up at him with a lazy grin on his lips and eyes glowing with warmth and devotion and fire. “Eh, you might have mentioned it once or twice,” he teases, trying to be as bitchy as he used to be with Chansung, though the latter only laughs at him with that stupid dolphin-like laugh that Junho loves to hear nonetheless.

“I love you more, though,” Junho murmurs.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea has been lurking in my mind since I saw that tweet mentioned at the beginning, and I thought I should finally unload my CNN feels onto a fic. Took me a long time to complete, though, because I can't seem to find the right words to write.
> 
> Also, I kept on falling asleep while writing (every. single. damn. time.) plus it's unbeta'd, so I hope you'd excuse this piece of a word vomit~


End file.
